


Dark Angel ficlet collection

by Tanaqui



Category: Dark Angel
Genre: Community: fic_promptly, Ficlet Collection, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-20
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-01-16 09:09:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 3,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1341352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tanaqui/pseuds/Tanaqui
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of ficlets, mostly written in response to prompts left at the <a href="http://fic-promptly.dreamwidth.org">Fic Promptly comm at Dreamwidth</a>. One ficlet per chapter; characters/rating are listed in the chapter title.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <strong>UPDATED: One new ficlet (chapter 9) added 12 September 2015.</strong></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Designation (Alec; General)

_Prompt: Dark Angel, any Transgenic, the weight of having a name rather than a number_

**Designation**

He's had names before. For a short while. For as long as his missions lasted. He's not sure if all of them were borrowed: did the details on the driver's licenses and IDs they issued to him belong to unknowing innocents out there in the wider world or were they yet more of Manticore's inventions? A few of them he's certain were someone else's, with no need to give them back. Simon Lehane, for one.

But this name? This is different. Manticore didn't give him this name. Max did. As a joke and as an insult and because he needed one. And she had him pegged: no matter how hard Manticore tried to train it or beat it out of him, he always was a smart aleck. Part of what made him so good at deep cover missions—and so bad.

He could choose another name. There's a hundred different names, a thousand of them he could use. Pick one and it'd be a new start and a chance to be someone different. But Max gave him this one. Just like she gave him his life and showed him how to be more than what Manticore—and his own smart-ass nature—had made him up to then.

It's a name to live up to and one to live down. It's a good name. It's his name.

Alec.


	2. A different kind of chemistry (Alec; General)

_Prompt: Dark Angel, Alec, Don't talk to me about Science!_

**A different kind of chemistry**

The slightly dilapidated building that served as Terminal City's seat of government was buzzing when Alec got back after one of his nightly forays outside the fence. He sidestepped a couple of transgenics pushing a trolley of crates toward him at some speed in the main corridor, rounded a small group clustered in a doorway who were engaged in an intense debate about whether they needed to open a second hospital facility, and wove his way through a third group gearing up with bags and packs, before he found Max and Logan poring over the map of Terminal City that was permanently spread out on a table in the middle of the room that formed a cross between council chamber and ops center.

"What's up?" He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.

Max glanced up from tracing her finger in a line across the map. "Bastards poisoned the water coming in on the east side." She returned her attention to the map.

Alec pushed upright, dropping his casual air, and moved closer to the table. "What with?" He didn't need to ask _who_ she was talking about: the authorities outside the fence had been harassing the residents of Terminal City in one way or another, big or small, for weeks.

"We don't know yet." Logan was the one who answered, though he kept his attention on whatever patterns Max was tracing, noting down her murmured comments in a notebook. "Not everyone's affected, even if they drank the same water. We're trying to figure out who, and pick up anyone who needs medical attention, and get clean supplies to the affected areas."

"What can I do?" Alec would much rather slink off to bed and crash out, but he didn't really need the sleep and he'd learned the past few months that it was better—for him as well everyone else—if he pitched in. Besides, it saved him from being on the receiving end of one of Max's looks. Which shouldn't bother him, but somehow they did.

Neither Max nor Logan replied for a few seconds, still with their attention on the map. Then Max spoke. "Figure out what they used."

"Huh?" The request was so off base from what he'd expected her to say that he didn't understand for a few seconds what she was asking.

"Find out what they put in the water and how to counteract it and treat the effects." Max straightened and gave him a direct look, daring him to turn down the assignment.

"Me?" Alec was still bemused. "Haven't you got anyone more... qualified? What do I know about that stuff?"

Max folded her arms. "Nothing? But there's a laptop and a whole internet out there, and you've got a genius IQ and a few hours before I need an answer. I know Manticore gave you a lot less time to prep for a lot more complex assignments...." She quirked an eyebrow, waiting for a response.

"Okay, okay." He rolled his eyes. Crossing to the laptop, he linked his fingers together and flexed them. "Do we have a list of symptoms yet?"

Twenty four hours later, the affected transgenics were being successfully treated, with only a half dozen who'd been the first or worst affected who weren't going to make it, while a filtration and treatment system had been rigged up to neutralize the ongoing contamination—and Alec was finally ready for sleep. His head was buzzing with all the knowledge he'd stuffed in and the effort of putting it together to extract the answers he needed.

He felt Max's hand land on his shoulder. "Good work. So, now you're our scientific go-to guy—."

He raised a couple of fingers to cut her off. "Don't talk to me about science!" He'd had a bellyful. 

At least for today. As he strode away, it struck him he'd kinda enjoyed solving a different type of problem to usual. Maybe he'd ask Max tomorrow what she wanted next.


	3. Undocumented (Alec; General)

_Prompt: Author's choice, author's choice, false documentation_

**Undocumented**

Alec's had a lot of false documents in his hands over the years, back when he was X5-494. Not fake ones, exactly: most of them were pretty high-class, designed to pass the most stringent tests and to get him into places where security was tight. Places he usually wasn't supposed to be, even if whichever guy he was impersonating that day had had every right to be there—while he was still alive.

Out here, among the ordinaries, it's amazing how much you don't need documents. You can find a place to stay, food to eat and another body to keep you warm without photo IDs and swipe cards and any of that other shit. The only identification you need is a handful of ready cash, and it's never been hard for Alec to rustle that up, by one means or another.

But getting between sectors? That's one time when the right documentation may still not be strictly necessary, but damn, does it make life so much easier. Funny thing is, though, his Jam Pony all-sector pass feels like the most fake thing Alec's ever been given: he knows a job and a pass would be the last thing Normal would have offered him if he knew the truth about 'Monty Cora'. And the first time through a checkpoint, he half expected to get busted.

Showing the pass yet again as he heads into a new sector, he can't help reaching up to touch the spot on his jacket collar that hides his barcode. That's his real documentation—X5-494—and yet Max has helped him learn it's the most unreal of all. It may mark him indelibly with his designation, but it doesn't say a thing about who he is, or who he's becoming.


	4. A Prison Life (Alec; Teen)

_Prompt: Dark Angel, Alec, fear of being confined_

**A Prison Life**

At Manticore, they were taught to fear nothing. If they demonstrated a phobia—a fear of heights or water or spiders—it was drilled out of them. With exposure, with confrontation, with mental techniques to dissociate body and mind. And so Alec is fearless—to the point of stupidity, as Max often reminds him.

Yet there's one fear he's never been able to quite shake. Where it takes every ounce of mental discipline to push past it and ignore it. He's never understood why this fear grips him the way it does: why it catches up with him abruptly in elevators and sewers and crawl spaces. Not until he begins to remember what they forced him to forget: Simon Lehane and Robert Berrisford and Rachel—.

And remembers, too, what they did to him to make him forget: the cramped space and the flashing images and whatever drugs they were pushing into him, until he walled off a part of his mind to be safe. But still it bleeds through, each time there's enough of an echo in the world out here to remind him of the world back there. Just as seeing the gates of Berrisford's place dredged up a few notes of the Chopin he'd been working on with Rachel.

As the net closes in around them—from the ordinaries and the cult and whoever the hell else thinks they own him—he knows more and more clearly that his one great fear is to be confined again in another prison of his own making, where he can't even tell the bars are there.


	5. Hidden Depths (Alec, Max, Logan; General)

_Prompt: Dark Angel, any, cooking_

**Hidden Depths**

"Well, I'm sure there's _something_ you could do for us to say thank you." Max smirks at Alec as if she can't imagine there's anything he could do that would make up for her saving his ass. Again.

Alec's about to blow her off—he doesn't need to take her crap—when his gaze falls on the kitchen. It's only a domestic set-up, but there's nothing shabby about anything in Logan's place. He turns back to Max. "I could cook you guys dinner. Assuming there's anything to cook." There's no evidence of food, but that big-ass refrigerator must surely have something in it other than beer.

Max splutters. "You?"

It's Alec's turn to smirk. "Manticore had me undercover as a private chef one time. Guy I was pretending to be? Had a Michelin star somewhere over in Europe." He pushes away the memory that it was yet another assassination mission and focuses on how much fun it was to create art on a plate.

Logan raises his eyebrows. "You're a world-class chef?"

"Near enough." There was the small matter of having grown up eating the crap Manticore had served its soldiers while having super-sensitive tastebuds, which meant it had taken him a dangerously long while to figure out how to season things properly. He crosses to the kitchen and opens a few cupboards. The contents may not be as good as he'd like but they're better than he'd expected. 

Logan laughs and gestures, granting Alec the permission he didn't wait for. "Be my guest. If you can cater for four—" Alec nods at him to confirm it. "–I'll invite Asha over. We've a few things to discuss and it'll beat getting lousy takeout again."

Max is still looking irritated. "Don't think this means we're even," she warns Alec.

"Oh, I'd never think that," he murmurs to himself as he starts to lay out knives and bowls and saucepans on the countertop.


	6. Ships in the Night (Alec/Asha; General)

_Prompt: Author's choice, author's choice, Somebody to Love_

This follows on from the previous chapter and leads into the next chapter.

**Ships in the Night**

"See you home safe?"

Asha's about to refuse. She's not in the mood for company, after watching Logan and Max make googly eyes at each other over dinner, and then ending up arguing with both of them when Logan finally spares the time to discuss the stuff he invited her over for. Logan's so insulated, in his little penthouse bubble, from what life is really like, and Max doesn't fully understand how City politics works. And there'll be another row later if she sticks to her guns and does what she's sure is right.

But turning to face Alec after he helps her into her jacket, she can see he knows all that and understands. Her _That's not necessary_ dies on her lips, and instead she says, "Sure. Thanks."

They're down on the street before either of them speaks again, Asha shoving her hands deep into her pockets and hunching her shoulders against the wind that's picked up in the last couple of hours.

"He's not coming back to you, you know," Alec says, very gently.

"I know." She's not even sure she wants Logan back, not like that. What she wants back is the way they used to work together on the things she cared about— _they_ cared about—before he got mixed up in all this transgenic stuff. She slides a sideways glance at Alec. "She's not coming back to you, either."

Alec laughs, though there's a slight catch in it. "Never was mine in the first place. I just wish—." He takes Asha's elbow to guide her as they cross the street and holds on to it once they're back on the sidewalk. "That she'd take me seriously. Stop being so surprised—."

"That you can cook?" she teases, before adding more seriously, "It was a great meal, by the way. Thank you. I'm only sorry I wasn't in a better mood to appreciate it."

"I'll cook you another one," he promises. His hand is still on her elbow and she likes the feel of it there, remembering an evening when they got close and might have gotten closer still.

Throwing caution to the wind, she asks, "Do you do breakfasts?"


	7. Safe Haven (Alec/Asha; Adult)

_Prompt: Dark Angel, any, towel_

This follows on from the previous chapter. 

**Safe Haven**

Asha's woken by the sound of the shower running. She stretches languidly, still a little tired, even though she's been asleep for—she checks the alarm clock—a good four hours. But her body is pleasantly worn out by Alec's lovemaking, tingling again at the mere memory of his hands and his lips on her, making her whimper and beg for more and finally cry out. Three times before they were finally done.

She knows that the whole time he was a little smug about the power he had over her, that he was getting off on it, but she doesn't care, because the sex was so damn good. And the one time she tensed and said "Don't—." he stopped and moved his hand to another place with a murmured, "Is _this_ okay?"

The shower shuts off. Dragging herself away from the memories, she rolls over to see Alec coming out of the bathroom, hair only half dry and a towel wrapped around his hips. His body is muscled like the Greek statues she studied in college and she idly wonders how hard he has to work out or whether his transgenic genes help him stay that way.

Raising her gaze from that near-perfect body to his face, she sees he's grinning at her. "Hey, you're awake. Hope you don't mind...?" He tilts his head in the direction of the bathroom.

She shakes her head. She's suddenly a little shy, and when she sits up, she clutches the sheet to cover herself, even though he's seen and touched—and tasted!—every inch of her.

He sits on the edge of the bed and cups her cheek in his hand. "Are we okay?"

She nods. "So is that another of the skills Manticore taught you? For getting close to any female targets you need to assassinate?"

He tilts his head, considering his reply. "Would it matter if it was?"

She thinks about it for a moment. They're both products of their upbringing, and they neither of them can be blamed for that. What matters is the choices they make here and now, and Alec's shown he can make good choices—even if he sometimes needs a little push in the right direction.

She laughs and lets the sheet slip, while she rests her hand around his waist, sliding her fingertips under the edge of the towel as she pulls him toward her. "Nope."


	8. Useless Talent #66 (Alec, Max; General)

_Prompt: Dark Angel, Alec & any, useless talent number 66_

**Useless Talent #66**

Alec caught the sound of someone cautiously following him from the bar when the guy was still fifty yards away. Plenty of time for Alec to finish counting the cash in his hands, divide it into two stacks, and tuck it into separate pockets, before he turned to face whoever was trying to sneak up on him.

"Max!" He'd expected it to be one of the dimwits he'd just hustled out of their money, come to try and get it back. Though he realized now that she'd been moving far too lightly and quietly to be some half-drunk ordinary.

"Nice trick." She tilted her head back in the direction of the bar.

He shrugged. "Useless talent number sixty six." It wasn't difficult to win any bar bet when you had genetically enhanced strength, reflexes and intelligence. And there were times when winning bar bets seemed like the only thing he could do with some of the skills he had.

"You know, we could use those talents back at TC." Max had crossed her arms and was tapping the fingers of her right hand irritably on her sleeve. "Instead of making a quick buck so you can—what _are_ you going to spend it on?"

Alec sighed heavily. Always with the suspicion, even now. He pulled out the larger of the two wedges of bills and held it out to her. "We also need food. Medicine. Gas. I mean, I could steal that shit directly if you'd rather, but this seemed... easier. Cleaner. Less likely to lead back to TC."

Max's expression turned rueful as she accepted the money with a muttered thanks and slipped it inside her jacket. After a moment, she looked back up at him, her eyes dancing. "So, how many bars are there in this city and just how many more useless talents do you have?"


	9. Knowledge is Power (Alec, Joshua; General)

_Prompt: Dark Angel, Alec and any in Terminal City, trying to get the power on_

**Knowledge is Power**

"Dammit!" Alec snatches his hand back and shakes it, his fingers still tingling from however many thousands of volts just zapped through him. Okay, maybe not thousands; he knows it's not thousands, even if it is a main conduit he's trying to tap into. But he definitely doesn't know enough. Manticore taught them how to cut the power and how to deactivate an alarm, but not how to connect power or reroute it safely. A few classes in trade skills would be way more useful than freakin' piano lessons at this point. Especially as one of the things Alec does know is that he could walk a hundred yards, throw a switch in a breaker box and turn the power off while he works—and disrupt the supply sufficiently for the authorities to notice immediately that TC is stealing power. So that's not an option. He'll just have to—.

"Alec hurt. Joshua help."

Alec, peering intently at the wiring, still flexing his hand, senses Joshua stepping up next to him. He shakes his head. "It's too dangerous. You'll—."

Joshua reaches past him, manipulating wires and connectors deftly, even though he's wearing rubber gloves he's found somewhere. There's a sudden gleam of light from behind them, shining out through the perimeter fence. Turning, Alec can see a thumbs up from the group around the lamp, before the light is quickly doused. His eyes take only a few moments to adjust again, but already he sees a flurry of activity, with cables being rolled out in several directions.

"Nice work, Joshua, my man!" Alec turns back and punches Joshua in the arm. "Where d'you learn to do that?"

Joshua is beaming. "Father teach Joshua. And Joshua read. Joshua need power for house, so Joshua learn how to get power."

"Right." Alec remembers taking for granted that Joshua's place still had power. There's a lot about Joshua he takes for granted—like still not giving Joshua enough credit for how smart he is. "So what else did you get working in your house?" Maybe Joshua has some other skills they can use.


End file.
